Downton July 2014 Fanfiction Bonanza
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: These were prompted by a-tardis-at-downton on Tumblr. The prompts are the chapter titles. CHAPTERS 7 & 8 "BOMBS" ARE MY CONTRIBUTION TO THE STEAMM DAY CELEBRATIONS.
1. Novel

Downton July Fanfic Bonanza!

1st July prompt: "Novel"

_Set in early spring 1920._

Edith smiled innocently at Stewart, saying "Please don't worry announcing me, Stewart. I know my way."

Anthony's butler looked mildly shocked, but bowed his head in acquiescence. It was something she had never done before, but had imagined doing many times.

She wanted to catch him unawares. She longed to know what he got up to in that library of his when he was alone, what he looked like when he didn't think she was watching him. She waited until Stewart had left the hall; quietly she then turned the door handle.

He was sitting in his usual armchair by the fireplace. Dressed in a very proper tweed three-piece suit and plain tie, as ever, he was reading a book. He was so engrossed that he didn't hear her silently enter. She managed to creep close enough to him to realise that he was weeping. Sir Anthony Strallan, pillar of the county, the model of propriety, was crying over a novel. What book might move him so, she wondered. She moved forward one more step, her foot found the one and only creaky floorboard, and Anthony's watery blue eyes snapped up to meet hers.

"Lady Edith! I'm so sorry, I…I didn't hear you announced." He tried to wipe his eyes surreptitiously, but she moved closer to him still.

"Please don't worry. I…I'm afraid I told Stewart not to bother. We are friends enough for that, aren't we?"

He sighed, and she could read his thoughts. "Of course, of course" he answered politely, meaning that he didn't know how to convince this insistent young woman that he was not good enough, not young enough for someone as lovely as her.

Edith's eyes strayed to the book he had placed on the seat behind him. It was _Tess of the d'Urbervilles_. Her breath hitched; he noticed that she had noticed, and he had to explain.

"Forgive a foolish, sentimental, old man. Every time I read _Tess_, I am more struck by the arrogance of the men in her life. She didn't deserve them."

When she looked back on it years later, she remembered that moment as the first time she truly fell in love with Sir Anthony. A man born and raised in Victorian times, but who sympathised with Tess just as fully as Hardy did himself. A man moved to tears by a work of literature that he'd read many times before. Yes, she'd loved him before the War, and meeting him again at Granny's had been such a shock, and such a pleasure. But there is a difference between loving someone, and _falling_ _in love_ with them.

Instinctively, she laid her hand gently on his bad arm. They both stopped breathing, as he looked at her hand, then up at her face, as he recognised love in her eyes, and knew he was lost.


	2. Wet

Downton July Fanfic Bonanza!

2nd July prompt: "Wet"

_Modern AU_

Anthony stared at the misshapen lump. It was obscene. It was horrible. He couldn't expect Edith to even look at it.

It had all looked so easy when he'd read it in the recipe book. It was _Delia Smith_ for heaven's sake! Not even he could ruin it. Or so he had thought. He looked up at the clock. There wasn't even enough time now to get to the shops and back.

With ever rising panic he weighed out the ingredients again. It was while he was still mixing that he heard the front door slam shut.

"Hi! I'm home!" She trilled it happily every day, and every day her voice still thrilled him, and he welcomed her home with a kiss and sweet nothings. Today, however…

"Damn and blast!" said Anthony under his breath.

"Sorry? What did you say? Where are you?"

"In the kitchen" he called out with unsuccessful nonchalance, as he tried to cover the _thing_ with a tea towel, and stand in front of his efforts, all at the same time.

"Anthony?" Edith peered around the kitchen door, more in trepidation than affection.

"Happy birthday, my dearest darling!" His smile covered all sorts of anxieties simmering underneath the surface.

His greeting softened her expression and eased her fears. That was until she saw the state the kitchen was in.

"Where exactly did the bomb hit?" she asked, deadpan.

Anthony decided to come clean…or at least as clean as you can when you have half a pound of flour impacted about your person.

"I'm so sorry, my darling. I…I was trying to bake you a cake…and…well…"

He lifted the tea towel to display his shameful effort.

Edith stared at it for a second before creasing up into uncontrollable giggles.

Anthony was partly relieved, and partly insulted by her reaction.

"Oh my love…but that's so sweet of you…even to try! But you really shouldn't be allowed into a kitchen without a bodyguard and a security cordon thrown around the house. We've known this ever since the incident with the pancakes!"

"I just don't understand it. I _can_ follow instructions. I _do_ follow the instructions, but when I put it in the oven then this…this…_creature _from hell emerges out of it! I think cooking is a branch of Black Magic!" he huffed. "I was about to try again when you came in."

Edith looked in the mixing bowl, dipped her finger daintily into the batter and, with some nervousness, tasted it.

"It's lovely, Anthony. No, really! You've just made the mixture too wet, that's all! It tastes really good, but there's no point in cooking it. It'll just end up like the thing from the Black Lagoon over there."

"Chinese take away?" Anthony offered in desperation. "Not much of a birthday treat though, is it?"

"I have a much better idea" purred Edith, still sucking her finger in a most sensual and provocative way. Anthony's breath was stolen out of his body, as she picked up the mixing bowl, and smeared cake batter down his throat, and then proceeded to suck and lick it all off again, very slowly.

"Oh my!"

"I think men who think they can cook should be taught a lesson in how to…prepare ingredients with…loving respect…don't you?" she whispered in his ear.

"Oh my!" he repeated.

She lifted the apron over his head, and took his hand to lead him to their bedroom.

"I shall have to make the cake mixture too wet more often…"


	3. Teatime

Downton July Fanfic Bonanza!

3rd July prompt: "Teatime"

_Canon_

Edith smoothed down her skirt, looked in the mirror again.

"You look very nice, Lady Edith" assured Anna. But Edith still was not convinced.

Today Sir Anthony was coming for tea, because _she_ had invited him, not because he had come to court Mary. Nervous did not approach describing what she felt. What if, on seeing Mary again, he decided that he did prefer her? Never mind that he had taken her, Edith, for a ride in his motor car, then asked for her company at that wonderful concert when he was so touchingly attentive. He'd called around again after that, just on the off-chance that she might be free for a spin, and that afternoon had been wonderful. He'd been in such a jolly mood, full of happiness that she felt he wanted to share with her…with her and no one else.

Then she thought again about tea today, and all her worries resumed as though all of that had been a gorgeous dream. She walked slowly downstairs, not wanting to seem too eager to Carson, or Mama. Her mother had been quite supportive really, and that was so nice seeing as she had invited Sir Anthony to dinner that time to try to marry Mary off to him. It was nicer still that Mama had agreed to host this tea.

When Edith entered the drawing room, her mother was already there…but so was her grandmother and both of her sisters. She sat down at the end of the sofa, with Sybil between her and Mary, for safety's sake. Granny was declaiming to Cora.

"Of course, I remember him as a boy, when his father was master of Locksley. I preferred Sir Thomas. He had character and a backbone…unlike his son. We hoped Anthony would find a wife to correct his own deficiencies, but, alas, no such luck! Maud was even wetter than him. Who knows what their son might have turned out to be like, had he lived."

Edith's stomach seemed to be churning with embarrassment and anger and a great desire to put her grandmother right about Sir Anthony. But challenging Granny required steel. She controlled her voice and spoke.

"Yet, Sir Anthony has enough character to work for the Foreign Office in trying to control the Kaiser. Surely a man without backbone would not be chosen for such an important task?"

Violet stared at her granddaughter, Mary rolled her eyes, but Cora and Sybil smiled and even almost smirked in amusement, supporting Edith.

Carson entered and announced "Sir Anthony Strallan".

* * *

.

Anthony and his man had taken hours choosing his best cut suit, in a light natural linen colour. He didn't like to over dress, so kept the cufflinks to a simple design in gold matched by his tie-pin. He looked respectable and proper, but not stuffy.

When he was finally satisfied, he motored over to Downton. He'd never felt like this when his father suggested, or rather firmly indicated, Maud as a bride. He'd never been nervous at what Maud, or Maud's mother might think of him.

The world was on the cusp and Anthony knew he was in what might be very charitably called the last flush of youth. But it wasn't the duty to produce an heir that worried him. It was whether he could make that gorgeous girl happy. He had convinced himself, after that wonderful concert, and those blissful drives, that he could be what Lady Edith wanted.

He was announced into the drawing room, and suddenly, he was there in her presence. His heart somersaulted. His confidence swelled under her smile. He spoke politely and entertainingly with both the elder and the younger Ladies Grantham. He paid particular attention to Mary, to make up for what she perhaps felt she'd thrown away, though not, he thought, with much regret on either side. He laughed easily with Lady Sybil who was a most impressive and impassioned apologist for women's rights. But he was always most aware of _her_, the woman he loved, and more than anything in the world the woman he wanted to make his wife. Astoundingly, she gave him every indication that she wanted to be his wife. Her eyes would dart up to meet his, and then shyly look down. It made his heart ache, and almost burst. He wished that tea would be over soon, that he might ask to see her alone, that he could hold her hands and kiss them, that he might kiss her delicious lips, and ask her to marry him.

No, not today, a proposal glowered over by the older Lady Grantham. No, Edith deserved better, the best. When tea was done, he would ask her out on another drive because he could not bear only to have her company surrounded by others. But then, at the garden party, he would find the words, find the perfect setting, and propose to the loveliest girl he'd ever met.

* * *

.

_This will be the last one for a few days, as I'm taking a well deserved holiday with the Baroness, just to have some time together without worrying about other people. But I will return next week with more drabbles, and keen in the run up to the Andith Fest on the 19th!_

_Sail on, good ship Andith!_


	4. Motorbike

_So, I finally got my contribution to the Andith Fest Day finished...it's out of order with the prompts, but I'll sort it out when I come to write others...  
_

Downton July Fanfic Bonanza!

13th July prompt: "Motorbike"

_Canon - 1925_

Anthony didn't remember why he turned around at the sound of the motorbike. He wasn't particularly interested in them: he preferred cars. He just had some sort of, well, feeling: one of those moments when one is grasped by Fate and forcibly put on a different path by the scruff of one's neck.

It all happened so quickly. The rider looked very young. He struggled with the controls as he rode up Downton High Street. All of a sudden he raced up the road, fumbling the accelerator instead of the brakes on the handlebars. Losing control, he toppled over, scraping a rut as he ploughed towards a little girl standing in his way.

Anthony raced as fast as his long legs would carry him, scooped the child up in his one good arm as quickly as he could, and carried her to safety. There were screams, he was sure, although it took some time for him to register them. An anxious woman, the mother no doubt, had claimed her child from his embrace and was weeping with relief. There were men milling around, some shaking him by the hand, some taking care of the young man, who, by some miracle, had escaped with a few bruises and a serious telling off by the Downton Police Constable.

It was only then that someone pointed out that Anthony was bleeding from the leg. The motorbike had clipped him. Still wound up from the near miss, Anthony didn't feel any pain. Someone fetched Dr Clarkson.

"Sir Anthony, I'm told you've saved a young life today" he said in greeting.

"What anyone would've done, if they'd seen it. This is just a side-swipe as he went past, I'm sure" Anthony said as Clarkson looked briefly at Strallan's leg.

"I'd have to disagree with you there, Sir Anthony. I think you should sit down a while."

A chair was brought out from a nearby shop. A tot of something strong was put into his hand, and the doctor encouraged him to take it, while gently feeling Anthony's calf.

"It must be the shock" stated the Doctor.

"What is?"

"The fact that you don't seem to know that your leg is broken."

"What?!"

The delayed reaction and blood loss hit him just as forcefully as the motorbike had done, and he passed out.

* * *

_._

After Doctor Clarkson had set the bone and cast the leg, he allowed Stewart, Anthony's man, to take him home to Locksley. The doctor and the valet had a brief, quiet, and yet forceful argument concerning the use of morphine, which the doctor won only by insisting that Stewart, and only Stewart, would administer, or have access to, the analgesic.

Stewart stayed with Anthony, concerned etched in his expression and his demeanour. But that first night went better than expected and Anthony had no reaction to the drug that had caused him so much trouble after he'd been wounded. Anthony asked after the child that he had saved.

"She's Mrs Drewe's youngest, Sir; fostered or adopted, I didn't quite gather. She visited the hospital to see you because she felt so bad about you being injured, but that was when you were still unconscious. I assured her that I would pass on her gratitude to you."

"Thank you, Stewart. Please, if you see her, tell her she mustn't blame herself."

"I will, Sir."

* * *

_._

That afternoon there was a caller at the door of Locksley, but when Stewart opened it, it wasn't Mrs Drewe as he had expected, but Lady Edith Crawley.

"Good afternoon, Stewart. Is there any possibility that I could see Sir Anthony?"

"I'm afraid he's rather indisposed at present, my lady. He was involved in a traffic accident yesterday, and…"

"Yes, that's why I've come. I want to see for myself that he's alright."

"Very good, my lady. If you would kindly wait in the library while I see if Sir Anthony is awake. Doctor Clarkson has prescribed some very strong painkillers for him, you see."

Edith thanked Stewart again, knowing full well that the loyal man wasn't checking if his master was awake, but wanted to ask Anthony if he could stand seeing her, especially when he was recovering from being hit by a motorcycle. Soon enough, Stewart returned.

"Please follow me, my lady."

She didn't know what to expect. What she saw was a man wearied by too many sleepless nights and too many self-accusations. The eyes were still as mesmerising, but they looked as though they had shed too many tears in the last few years. And then there was the leg. The poor man looked thoroughly, miserably embarrassed.

Anthony didn't know why she was really there. Why would she want to come? Surely an enquiry passed from Carson to Stewart, and an assurance passed back from Stewart to Carson would have sufficed?

He sat upright on the daybed with his leg in plaster raised on a stool, and looking terrified. But he bowed his head briefly before apologising for his inability to stand in her presence.

"Even more of an old cripple than when you knew me before, you see!"

Edith didn't laugh at his self-deprecating joke. But she did smile indulgently.

"Yesterday, you did not act like an old cripple. You saved…" she swallowed her emotions, and controlled herself, "…you saved that little girl's life, and at some cost to yourself. It could have been much worse too."

Anthony brushed it off. Edith pressed on with her praise.

"No, Sir Anthony…"

"Just Anthony, please. Please" he whispered, and she could not deny the pleading in his eyes.

"Anthony. You are a hero, again. I just had to come and thank you."

"You always did take great pains to look after Downton's tenants. I recall when mechanisation was first coming in, when you spoke to me at that wretched dinner, your immediate thought was to be fair to the tenants. It was what struck me first about you."

"You remember it still?" she breathed.

"Of course. Though I have no right to take any pleasure in it…not after what I did to you."

"I know why you did it, Anthony. What Granny and Papa said…they had no right to insult you in that way!"

"Please, Lady Edith, it's all in the past now. And probably for the best…your columns…I read them every week. They are…you are…extremely good."

It was Edith's turn to look downwards modestly, and with some sadness.

"They've brought me some fulfilment, I suppose."

Anthony summoned all his courage.

"And, I hope, the opportunity of more fulfilling things? Several career paths open to you? And London is such an exciting city…if one is young. So many…interesting people to meet."

"If you mean, have I found a suitor, then, actually, you'd be right" Edith flung the words back at his careful discretion as a wounded animal bites the vet trying to soothe it.

Anthony sat silent as the barb hit home, shattering his heart again.

"And because I'm Edith Crawley, he abandoned me without a word. At least you had the decency to turn up to our wedding before you jilted me, to try to explain."

"What…? This man just left you?" Anthony spluttered.

"Yes." The simple word expressing all her lost hopes. But through the tears that threatened, a small voice reminded her how easy it was to talk to Anthony, even after these years. She'd told him far more than she'd told her own mother already. How much she trusted him, a trust she _knew_ was merited despite what her family had driven him to do.

"Dear God, I'd like to wring his neck. I'm sorry, Lady Edith, I have no right to speak like that. But he…"

"He went to Germany, to apply for German citizenship. He did that because…"

Edith related the sad tale of Michael Gregson to Anthony Strallan, the story of a man who had wanted to marry her, told to one who almost had and still loved her. When she had finished she breathed a deep sigh.

"So you see, the little girl you saved yesterday is my daughter. And I'm so very, very grateful to you for it. And, in a silly way, I'm very grateful it was you. It feels right that you should've been looking out for her. Thank you, Anthony."

Anthony, his chest so full of emotion, couldn't speak right then. He pulled himself together enough to express his thankfulness that he could've been of such service to her, and to reassure her that no one would hear of Alice's true parentage from him.

"Would I be presuming too much to ask whether you might bring Alice to visit me? I…I can provide privacy and comfortable surroundings for your visits with her, if that would be of any assistance."

Edith took a deep breath, her prayers answered before she'd even acknowledged them.

"I would like that very much, thank you, Anthony."

* * *

_._

There were visits from Edith and Alice, and from Mrs Drewe and Alice, and sometimes all three of them together. Once Anthony's leg had mended well enough, he would sometimes ask to join them on walks through Locksley's orchards until it became habit that the visits not only enabled Edith private time with her daughter, but also it allowed Anthony a neutral space with Edith. That neutral space became more and more cordial as, little by little, week by week, Edith and Anthony regained their friendship, and two heartfelt wounds were healed as well as the broken bone.

* * *

_._

"Papa wants to talk to you, in the library." Mary's tone was as offhand as usual, with a hint of smugness.

When Edith arrived Granny and her mother were there too on the divan. Robert took up his usual place by the fireplace.

"Edith, I do not wish to interfere in your life, but certain movements of yours have come to my attention and we, your mother, grandmother, and I, are worried about you."

Edith stiffened even further, if that were possible.

"To what movements in particular do you refer?"

"One of the staff, I will not say who, saw you driving into Locksley yesterday afternoon. Edith, I know you have had a very bad time of it since that day at the church, and the friendship with Mr. Gregson didn't come to fruition as you had hoped. But must I stress to you, Edith, that Sir Anthony is not to be trusted? He is a social pariah since he abandoned you so unceremoniously and justifiably so. Please tell me that you have visited only to…to make peace with the past, and not to renew your association with him."

Edith was riled, but she had also learned the value of biding one's time. So, with pure honesty, she answered, "I can, with my hand on my heart, assure you that I have not renewed anything beyond civility with Sir Anthony. He broke his leg saving the life of one of the tenant's daughters, you do know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I am aware of it. I never said the man was without virtues. He has many. But he has shown that steadfastness towards you is not one of them" Robert replied.

"Only because you and Granny knowingly hounded him away from me" Edith retorted with ice in her voice.

"Edith, that's not…" Violet started.

"Oh, yes it is, Granny. And you know it. You felt so ashamed that you had introduced him into my life again not knowing that he had been wounded that you stopped at nothing to work on his fragility and his feeling that he didn't deserve me to get him to abandon me. But it wasn't as easy as you thought it would be, was it, because he loved me so much. It only worked at the very last minute in the church when you went so low as to cast doubt on his manhood in front of everyone I had invited to witness _my wedding to that man_, even in front of the Vicar. I knew Papa wasn't happy, but he wouldn't have actively tried to stop it if it hadn't been for you. You just can't bear _anything_ to blot the Crawley name in any way, can you? Not even your granddaughter's happiness. And when you succeeded, and I was heartbroken, who was it who was left to clear up the mess? Someone blameless of any interference: Mama. For that I will always be grateful, Mama."

Edith took a deep breath. She'd been allowing emotion to creep into her voice as she finally said what needed to be said.

"I am now nearly thirty three years of age. I am that dreaded thing: a spinster with no expectations in the family, but I have a right to act as I wish without familial permission. I even have the vote now. Unless I am severely mistaken, visiting Sir Anthony Strallan as a neighbour does not bring the Crawley name into disrepute, nor sully it in any way. Therefore, I shall continue to visit him in a civil, proper, and neighbourly way if I so choose to do. Unless you have anything further to complain of in my conduct, I'll leave you. I have business that demands my attention."

She left the three Crawleys stunned. She caught her mother's voice asking "Robert, did you really…?" but Edith didn't want to be a part of the argument, accusation, and defence that would now ensue. She went to the garage, took a car, and motored over to Locksley.

Anthony was surprised to see her without Alice.

"I…I don't think I should visit Locksley any more, Anthony. My family have discovered that I call round, and tried to ban me from doing so."

Anthony hung his head with the disappointment. "Of course. I understand…perhaps only too well…I must say I am surprised that you were willing to acquiesce to their demands, but with the bigger consideration of Alice…I presume they haven't discovered that secret too. Well, best to lose one battle and win the war, I suppose."

"Of course I didn't…acquiesce, as you put it. I told them that I was old enough to make my own decisions and they had no right to interfere" Edith's furious face heartened him.

"That's more like the Lady Edith I've come to know, the newspaper editor and lion of Fleet Street! And I would be very sad not to see little Alice any more. But if you ever _did_ make that decision, for whatever reason, you know, don't you, that I would understand."

"Anthony, you are without doubt the most frustrating man I've ever met! You are too polite and gentlemanly for your own good!"

"I have no rights in this, Edith. How would you like me to react?"

"Like this!"

Fuelled by her anger and irritation, she walked boldly up to him, put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him. After a single second's surprise he closed his eyes, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her back.

A minute passed. Gently Edith released him, but did not move away.

"I've wanted to do that for, ooh…roughly eleven years" she whispered.

"Me too, and it has been getting worse in the last few months. We don't seem to be able to keep away from each other, do we?" he asked.

"No, not even a War, or a clandestine affair can force us apart."

"Or all the force of the Crawleys!" They giggled, but then Anthony became serious again. "If this means what I hope it means, I promise you I will not allow them to separate us, not now. I know what it's like to live without you, and I don't think I could stand it again" he murmured into her hair. She leaned back to look at him, tears in her eyes.

"What do you think it means, Anthony?"

"I hope it means that you might be willing to let an old codger try again" he urged.

"Only that?" she teased. "Why should I let you?"

"Because…because I love you. I love you so much, Edith. Each time I walk away from you it hurts more, exponentially so, and I can't do it…I can't leave you to the tender mercies of the likes of Michael Gregson. I want to protect you, and encourage you, and provide you with a stable home to go out into the world to challenge it and change it, secure in the knowledge that I, and Alice, and Locksley, support you, and will be here for you when you want to return. I would give anything to turn back time and marry you when I should have done. But 'the moving finger writes' and all that. I would give everything I have and all that I am, just to share your life now. I convinced myself to be content when you visited once a week with Alice…well, almost content."

"But I wasn't" interrupted Edith. "I kept hoping you would start a conversation, but you are proper, compassionate, humble Anthony Strallan. I should have known that you would not jeopardise the friendship we had already built recently. But I want to be plain: I. Want. It. Now."

Anthony couldn't keep his tears back or his smile measuring the length from ear to ear. "Oh my darling. My lovely Edith!" He speedily went down on one knee. "Will you marry me? For good this time? Please?"

"Of course, my sweet one!"

Anthony intended to leap up and kiss her. Instead he twisted awkwardly, and gave a yelp.

"Damn leg!" he said by way of explanation. "Please, stop laughing and help me up, would you?"

"You said something about old codgers." Edith took his good arm and together they stood him up. Quickly, he caught her round the waist and kissed her again.

"Codger or no codger" she said, laughing, "you can't keep a good man down."

"Just try it" Anthony murmured into her ear.

* * *

_._

_Sorry this was so long..._


	5. Dog

Downton July Fanfic Bonanza!

10th July prompt: "Dog"

_Canon 1930_

.

"It all happened so fast. I'm so, so sorry m'lady." Mrs Drewe was inconsolable, and Edith was frantic.

"Just tell me what happened" she said, trying to keep her voice level, hiding the panic rising like nausea.

"She was out here playing with the puppy, when the shoot started. Harvey took fright and ran off into the woods and Marigold followed him. I ran after them, but they were gone in a second. I came back to fetch Tim and that's when you arrived. If anything happens to that sweet child…"

"Nothing's going to happen to her" stated Mr Drewe. "She's a sensible girl, and anyways, I'll find her myself soon enough. Lady Edith, would you stay with my wife?"

"No, I'm coming with you" Edith shouted setting off towards the woods herself.

"We could get the young Smith boys to help…" Drewe suggested.

"There's no time. We must find her before she gets as far as the shoot."

Edith half-ran half-stumbled into the woods between Yew Tree Farm and Downton itself, with Locksley land off to the west. Of course she had chosen today to visit her daughter: it was the height of a dizzying summer and everyone else at home was focussed solely on the success of the shooting party her father had arranged.

"If anything happens to that sweet child" Mrs Drewe's words echoed tauntingly in her head_…I will have no more reason to live._

* * *

_._

It was Sir Anthony Strallan's habit on warm summer days to sit out on the lawn with a good book and allow the glorious heat of the sun ease the pain in his shoulder. It could never ease the pain in his heart; nothing could.

He was letting his mind wander, his eyes turned towards the orchards and years gone by, when he was surprised by a Golden Labrador puppy running full pelt out of the woods. The dog was obviously scared stiff of something.

Anthony stood and whistled, and then called to it softly. The dog turned gratefully towards the kindly voice and scampered towards the tall man offering a tit-bit of his cake.

"You're a fine young pup" praised Anthony as he fussed over the dog, petting his ears. When he was sure that the dog was happy with Anthony's company, he picked him up and wandered over to the edge of the woods.

"Who do you belong to, hmm? And why were you running away so fast I wonder? Are they cruel to you? Would you like to live here instead?"

The puppy licked Anthony's cheek in joyous puppyishness.

There was a distressed cry from the woods, a young girl shouting through her tears.

"Harvey?! Harvey! Please come back!"

Anthony looked at the dog in his arms. "So you're Harvey, yes?"

The puppy answered by giving him another lick.

"Hello! I think I may have your dog" Anthony called into the woods. Immediately, a young girl, no more than seven years old, cried "Harvey" and ran towards him.

The puppy squirmed in Anthony's arms at hearing his mistress' voice and Anthony put him back on the ground in time to run to the girl as she fell on to the close clipped grass of Anthony's lawn, crying with relief into the puppy's dense fur. Anthony smiled at the two of them as they greeted each other. It had been a very long time since he had witnessed a scene of such youthful innocence.

Without letting go of her dog, the little girl looked up at the tall, blonde man in his light linen summer suit. He took a sharp breath, because she reminded him…she looked like… Then he shook his head and told himself he was a fool…even so many years after, he was still seeing her everywhere.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you for finding my puppy."

"That's quite alright, Miss. I'm glad everything's well now, but you must be careful not to let your dog run away like that another time. He might get hurt."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Do you know why he ran off?" Anthony asked kindly.

"He isn't used to guns, sir. He heard the shoot start up at the big house, and they frighted him."

The 'big house'. She didn't mean Locksley, so that had to be…Anthony closed his eyes briefly to swallow down the emptiness inside that appeared, still, each time _she_ or her household were mentioned. Life went on for everyone else and that included those in the 'big house', but not for him.

"Ah. Well, he's a very sensible dog then, because guns are very dangerous things. But he still would have been safer staying with you, wouldn't he?" Anthony said gently.

"Yes" she nodded.

"Is anyone else looking for Harvey? Your Mama or Papa?"

"No. I came after Harvey by myself."

Anthony sighed. Now he had to think about worried parents wandering the woods as well. He was just thinking through the logistics of getting Stewart to find the parents while he kept this young girl and her dog company, when he heard calls in the woods again. This time they were definitely adult: a woman close by and a man further away.

"Is that your Mama calling for you?" Anthony prompted. "I think she's worried about you. Perhaps we should go and tell her you've found Harvey? She'll be pleased about that, won't she?"

"You'll come too?" The little girl looked as though she knew she'd be in trouble for running after the puppy. It might lessen her mother's anger if this nice man was there to speak up for her.

"If you really want me" he answered.

The little girl, pursued by the puppy, ran to the edge of the lawn and continued into the woods, shouting "Mama! Mama! I've found Harvey!"

Anthony saw a woman's figure in the shadowed gloom of the woods sweep the little girl up into her arms and hug her close, all the while scolding her.

"Oh you naughty little girl! You had us all so worried!"

"But I found the man who found Harvey!"

Edith looked up and saw the lawns, the orchards, and the Queen Anne house. She saw a tall gentleman standing looking at her and only then did she realise where she was. She would have stayed there frozen to the spot for much longer if Marigold hadn't pulled at her sleeve to meet the nice man.

Anthony was looking at her in the way that she must have looked at him, she thought. He was shocked and terrified, and without the slightest clue how to manoeuvre out of this position with at least a modicum of dignity and politeness.

Marigold looked from her mother to the nice, tall man, and back again.

"He found Harvey and looked after him. Shouldn't we say 'thank you', Mama?" the lessons in propriety coming out of the seven-year-old a bit oddly.

"Yes, Marigold, we should. Thank you for finding Harvey and keeping him safe" Edith murmured.

"The least I could do." Anthony found a little solace in platitudes, since he himself was lost, his mind not yet fully in possession of the facts that had presented themselves to him in the last minute or so. _Edith's daughter…_

"Do you remember Isis?" Edith asked. Explaining who Harvey was, was something to say really. It was certainly easier than explaining who Marigold was.

"Of course" he smiled.

"Harvey is her grandson."

"Well then, he has a long way to go before he can live up to her prowess as a gundog. But if he isn't being trained then perhaps he can be forgiven for being scared."

"Yes. No. I mean, Harvey is just a pet" Edith stammered.

They gazed at each other. Anthony thought that she looked, if anything, more magnificent than ever. She no longer had that 'little girl lost' look, and was fully, wonderfully a woman. She had brought her sweet daughter up to be independent of mind and brave yet polite. _Yes_, he thought,_ she has become so much more since I left. I did the right thing._

She looked at Anthony and saw a man more dignified and more serious than the one she had known, but no less handsome and imposing. He still had that kind smile, and he was as good with children as she had always believed he would be, since he had won Marigold's trust and approval in so short a space of time, when she was normally suspicious of strangers. He was a little greyer at the temples, but his eyes were still the bluest she'd ever seen, and they wore the same expression of utter devotion and…well, if she had to describe it she would have said 'love-struck', although that couldn't be right. It had been years…

…years of loneliness, of having to manage on her own, of having to hide everything. Suddenly, Edith felt so very tired of all that. In Anthony's eyes she saw…she hoped she saw friendship…at least…perhaps an ally.

They were brought out of their thoughts by Mr Drewe, shouting and running to Marigold and giving her both a hug and the inevitable telling off.

"You won't go running off like that again and worrying us, now will you?"

"No, Daddy."

Anthony looked from Drewe to Edith and came to the wrong conclusion. Edith could see it all happening inside his head. What did Anthony think of her, she wondered. Then Anthony did something that made her fall in love with him all over again. Believing Drewe to be Edith's husband and Marigold's father, and despite his obviously lowly social position, he walked purposefully over to him, extended his good hand, and introduced himself, just as he would have done if Drewe had been a Duke. Drewe looked a bit embarrassed, not quite knowing how to react, or how Lady Edith would want him to. Anthony rescued him by taking the role of host.

"Can I offer you all some tea, and then we'll get Stewart to run you all home?" He looked directly at Marigold as if she were a co-conspirator of his and said "there might well be crumpets and cake, if Harvey let's us have any he doesn't eat!"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Marigold sang out and danced with Harvey. "We can stay, can't we, Mama?"

"Could you send a message to Mrs Drewe, Sir Anthony? She will be worrying. But then, yes, I think we could all do with some tea."

* * *

.

The library was exactly as she remembered it. Tea was, in Edith's opinion, just perfect. Anthony, despite his confusion at the mention of a Mrs Drewe, was the perfect host, not noticing anything about Drewe's lack of practiced manners, and going to great lengths to make sure that he felt welcome and had a subject to talk about with which he felt comfortable. Harvey was fed far too many titbits, and Marigold, having eaten three crumpets and as many pieces of cake, almost fell asleep.

Stewart returned from his errand of reassuring Mrs Drewe, and then Edith felt that they had imposed upon Anthony's hospitality for long enough. Stewart would run them back to the Drewe's farm.

"Thank you so much for all you've done this afternoon, Sir Anthony" she said, although her eyes said so much more.

"The pleasure was all mine, and all the better for being unexpected" he responded politely. "That isn't to say that if you were to plan to…er…well you know I always take tea…and it's so nice to share it with good company. But of course you don't have to…"

Edith smiled fondly at his stammered nerves.

"That would be lovely, thank you Sir Anthony. Wouldn't it be lovely to come again, Marigold?"

"As long as I can bring Harvey."

Anthony leaned down to her height and whispered "Actually I was mostly hoping that Harvey could come, but since he can't come without you and your Mama, I suppose I'll have to put up with you two as well!"

Marigold looked at him seriously, then saw he was joking and burst into delighted giggles.

* * *

.

The next week, Edith and Marigold returned to Locksley for tea.

And the week after that.

And the week after that.

Until one week, Edith arrived by herself.

After pleasantries, and polite excuses, mostly for the benefit of Stewart, Anthony and Edith were left alone together for the first time in nearly ten years.

"We need to talk, Anthony. I need to explain things to you." Her jaw was set, but Anthony could see the vulnerability and the fear of rejection and disapproval in her eyes.

"You don't need to explain anything to me, Edith. I gave that right up when I left you in Downton Church. It is your life to live, and I am only glad that I was granted a small glimpse of that life to reassure me that you have thrived without me."

"Is that what you think this is?" she almost scoffed.

"You have a fine spouse and a wonderful daughter. That's more than I ever managed, and something to be grateful for."

"Tim Drewe is not my husband."

"I had guessed that much."

"Anthony, I am not married. I never have been." She saw the shock, even if it was only a split second, immediately replaced by concern, not pity, but genuine anxiety for her welfare.

"I don't want you to feel you have to tell me. But I hope you know you can always, _always_, turn to me if you need a listening ear, or any practical assistance."

She thought she'd loved this man before. She was wrong: she didn't know half the depths of his love until he had said that. He loved her, unconditionally, unequivocally, eternally.

And she loved him. God, how she loved him, his honour, his humility, and everything about him that had frustrated her ten years ago.

She sat him down and told him about Michael and the newspaper articles, which he had read, and how writing had given her a feeling of some purpose after their failed wedding. She told him of Michael's plan to become a German citizen to divorce his insane wife and marry her. She wept again at the loss when Michael had not returned, and Anthony comforted her. Finally, she told him about her pregnancy, Aunt Rosamund's plan, their journey to Switzerland and her feelings of loss all over again when she left Marigold there. She spoke of Tom's off-hand remark about fighting for what one wanted which finally gave her the steel to return to claim her daughter and bring her up near to Downton, fostered by the Drewes.

When she looked up, Anthony's tears were still glistening on his cheeks.

"You are so strong, so brave, to face all that by yourself."

"I don't want to face it alone any more, Anthony. In the few weeks since Harvey ran over here, you have shown me more respect, more understanding, and more love than my entire family has shown me in that last ten years. I'm tired of fighting my battles on my own."

"You know you will always have my support, if you will allow me to offer it to you" he said gently taking her hand.

She gazed into his eyes, knowing exactly what the next few months would hold, if she chose to claim them: a wedding, relocation to Locksley, her daughter living with her for the first time, and a reawakening of love between herself and this marvellous, quiet man looking at her with infinite devotion and love.

"I would like that very much" she whispered before reaching up to him and kissing the corner of his mouth, pausing to return his stunned smile close to his cheek, then kissing his lips, and delighting in him kissing her back.


	6. Roses

**_This one is more like the length these little stories *_should_*__ be!_**

* * *

_._

22nd July prompt: "Roses"

_Canon_

It began exactly a year after that terrible day that was never mentioned now – at least not in her hearing.

On the anniversary of what should have been her wedding day an enormous bunch of the most beautiful roses was delivered to Downton Abbey for Lady Edith Crawley. There was no card, and the delivery boy knew nothing about who had sent them. Edith wondered but couldn't face finding out if _he'd _sent them. More honestly, she couldn't bear to find out that they _hadn't_ been sent by _him_, and it was someone like Michael.

The year after she had been in Switzerland on that day, so Mrs Hughes put them in the drawing room – and that was that.

By the third year Edith was angry…at him, at Michael, and at all men. She took the roses round to Mrs Drewe, who thought they were lovely and was very touched by the gift.

The next year roses arrived on little Alice's birthday at the Drewes, as well as on their not-anniversary at Downton. That threw Edith a bit. But, she remembered that he had been in Intelligence during the War; it wasn't so very surprising that he would find out. And the flowers had been sent to a place where no questions would be asked, no suspicions cast on her. She knew he hadn't talked and neither would he. For the first time since the roses began appearing she appreciated his discretion, and his patience.

Thus it was that on the fifth 'anniversary' Edith drove to Locksley having sent a message a few days earlier that she would be collecting the bouquet of roses in person that year.

Predictably he was waiting for her, emerging from the front door, flowers in his good hand, as she parked. They looked at each other for a long moment, then smiled awkwardly, sadly. He held out the blooms.

"Your roses, my lady" he said quietly.

"Every year. You send them every year. Are they meant to remind me of you?" she accused, her hurt causing her to be more gruff than she intended.

"Only in passing. Really, they are more an…an apology, a sacrificial offering."

"You want my forgiveness?" she asked incredulously.

"I do not deserve it. Why should I ask you to do something I cannot do myself?"

They continued staring at one another in silence.

"If you want me to stop sending you roses, of course I shall. Making you feel uncomfortable is the very last thing I wish to do."

"It does cause comment, especially from Granny."

"Then this will be the last. You have my word."

His face creased though he fought the pain to stop it from showing. He stepped forward to present her with the bunch, then stepped immediately back from her again, as if to show he meant his promise.

"Are they from the gardens here?" she asked not wanting their conversation to end so sadly…or, indeed, at all.

"Yes. They are always from the rose garden behind the library."

He hoped she might remember as fondly as he did.

"Sending them causes comment, but I suppose it would be alright…if I collected them…like today."

She paused, then raised her eyes to his hopefully.

Stunned, and overwhelmed, and not quite believing his ears, he agreed.

The invitation inside for a cup of something followed. And was quickly accepted.

* * *

.

The following year, Sir Anthony Strallan delivered the anniversary roses to his wife on a different day – the date of their successful wedding – when he brought her breakfast in bed.


	7. Bombs 1

Downton July Fanfic Bonanza!

5th July prompt: "Bombs"

_Period AU: World War II – for the purposes of this story, Anthony, Matthew, Tom, and Michael have not met the Crawleys before._

_This is my (extremely late) contribution to the STEAMM day celebrations. It was meant to be a drabble like the rest. Like the rest it grewed and grewed, and it will now be a multi-chapter thing! I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

Lord Grantham had not thought it necessary to build an outside shelter, because, he stated with complete certainty, there wouldn't be any bombing this far out into the countryside, nor this far north. Anyway, since the house was being used as an administrative HQ for the army, Robert considered it _their_ responsibility to build one if they thought it necessary. (The army considered the wine cellars would be more than adequate should the need arise.)

But sometimes, on their way back to Germany, the bombers would unload any shells they hadn't dropped on their intended targets soon after turning to home, thus lightening their weight and giving them a better chance of their fuel lasting until they reached German-occupied Europe and safety. And sometimes the primitive navigation equipment malfunctioned sending the hapless pilots the wrong way…

One such bomb from one such lost German bomber landed on Downton's back lawn one night with a squeal and a thump terrifying everyone within. Carson got up, and went out to inspect the intruder, having ordered everyone else under his command to stay in the Servant's Hall. He was joined by Lord Grantham, who had ordered his family to go to the library. The unexploded bomb was at the bottom of a ten-foot crater. Carson and his master exchanged bleached looks and made their way back to the house as quickly as they could without losing face. Then they lost no time in telephoning the police. Everyone, family and staff, were moved to the other side of the house for the rest of the night.

* * *

…

The next morning, the sappers arrived: Major Anthony Strallan, Captain Matthew Crawley, Lieutenant Michael Gregson, and Colour Sergeant Tom Branson, all of the Royal Engineers. They had been working through the night on UXBs (UneXploded Bombs) situated in more threatening positions such as hospitals. This one was the last before they went off duty. Lord Grantham accompanied by his wife, butler, and housekeeper met them at the front door as they climbed out of their truck.

"Thank you for coming." Robert extended his hand graciously to the Major. "The wretched thing is round the other side of the house." Robert wanted to waste no time getting rid of the uninvited guest. But Cora, always observant, had noticed how tired these men were.

"Major, would you and your men like some coffee before you get down to work?" she added with a smile that meant more to Robert (who had seen _that_ _particular _smile before) than it did to Anthony.

"That would be extremely kind of you, Lady Grantham. Thank you" Anthony accepted on behalf of his men. He would have insisted that everyone else got some rest before tackling the UXB anyway, even if it meant he did the preliminary examination on his own. They were all nearing the end of a particularly nerve-shredding tour of duty and badly in need of some leave.

Carson bowed in his thoroughly professional manner and led the guests to the drawing room where, although the breakfast things had been tidied away, coffee was still available, and indeed was still being drunk by Mary, Edith, and Sybil. The Earl's three daughters were fully engaged with the war effort in their different ways: Mary organised and ran the local Women's Voluntary Service, Sybil had trained as a nurse and although she worked at one of the military hospitals in Harrogate to the south, she was home on leave. No one in the family quite knew what Edith did, although she also worked weekly shifts at HMS Forest Moor in Nidderdale to the south-west of Downton, driving herself and some of her colleagues down for a stint of four days, and returning for two days' leave, as she had earlier that day. She was still dressed in her Women's Royal Naval Service or WReNS uniform.

Carson opened the door then stood back to allow the Earl to lead the sappers through. He was talking to the Major about how long this operation might take, mentioning his three girls to him as he passed them. Anthony was trying to make the Earl accept that although it could all be over and the bomb removed within a few hours, equally it might take several days according to the type of bomb it proved to be. Cora was asking Captain Crawley about his name, and how he might be related to the family. Lieutenant Gregson and Sergeant Branson were following behind, taking in their surroundings.

Anthony, though not unimpressed by Downton Abbey, was still struggling with the Earl's apparent inability to understand that the War wasn't going to take the Earl's convenience and comfort into consideration just for him.

"It really does all depend on the type of bomb, and more to the point, what type of fuse…" He stopped mid-sentence as he caught first sight of the Wren sipping her coffee and watching the sappers closely. Her copper curls were dressed neatly to the back of her head, and her dark brown eyes were summing Gregson up with an almost predatory look from behind her cup. Anthony's mouth went dry; he lost the words he had meant to say to the Earl; his heart stopped beating, and then beat like it would burst from his chest. This was Lady Edith, didn't Grantham say? Anthony's world, he knew, would never be the same again.

"…is a very inconvenient disruption. I say, Major, did you hear me?"

Anthony shook himself back to the Earl's conversation.

"I did, my lord. I assure you that I will do everything I can to expedite the removal of the bomb, but my utmost concern has to be the safety of you, your household, and of my men. I'm sure you must understand that."

"Of course, of course" said Robert, not meaning it at all.

Anthony put his cup down.

"The sooner I get to work, sir, the sooner this unpleasant business can be over and done with." He turned to his men.

"Carry on, gentlemen, you deserve a breather. I'll go and make the first pass. Thank you for the coffee, my lady" he nodded gratefully at Cora as he passed, glancing once more at the fair haired angel who now had his heart. Carson was ready to show him through to where the bomb lay awaiting him.

* * *

…

Taking advantage of Cora's distraction with Major Strallan, Mary joined Captain Crawley.

"I heard my mother interrogating you as to your family tree" she smiled at the handsome Captain, but there was a quality to her smile that he couldn't quite fathom, as though she was accustomed always to hold something back.

"Yes, she has. It would appear that I am some kind of cousin…third cousin I think." He had an easy-going nature that set everyone at ease, everyone except her of course, but she was very taken by his strikingly blue eyes and gentle, fearless smile.

"That is much closer than you think. We have fifth cousins who still insist on visiting every Christmas. However did we overlook you?" Mary jested.

"Perhaps because we wished to be overlooked?" Matthew's honesty was both disconcerting and disarming. "It's nothing personal, it's just that my father and mother didn't terribly care for, well, _this_" he waved a hand at his surroundings. "He was a doctor and she a nurse. I think they had different priorities."

"Don't tell Papa that. He'll have you escorted from the premises!" Mary laughed, as she almost visibly relaxed talking to this kind Captain.

"Anything to get away from bombs for a bit!" he laughed. He quickly added "No, I wouldn't mutiny on old Strallan. He's one of yours, you know."

"Ours?" Mary raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Sir Anthony Strallan, baronet, he is in normal life. But he's a prince among COs. I'd walk to Hell and back for him."

"And you probably do, every day you're on duty." Mary looked at him with undisguised admiration, and Matthew found that he liked it.

* * *

…

Tom drank his coffee black: simple, strong, and straightforward. Being inside a stately home put his back up, and he was itching to get outside to help the Major.

"How did you get involved in bomb disposal, Sergeant?" said Sybil, politely.

Tom looked round to see where such a beautiful, musical voice had come from, and it appeared to come from the nurse by his side.

"I'm Irish" he replied, as though that explained everything.

"And…?" Sybil encouraged.

"And I come from a prominent nationalist family…journalists, you understand. We weren't terrorists. But it meant that the British Army knew who I was when I enlisted and they put me here rather than risking me near the front. I think they believe I'll raise a mutiny."

"I think that's rather horrid, not to say short sighted" she lowered her voice conspiratorially "but don't tell anyone I said so."

"No" Tom laughingly agreed. "I'm glad it was you who asked and not any of the stuffed shirts of the Earl's family!"

"No, indeed. I'm only his daughter." Sybil allowed herself just a moment enjoying the Sergeant's appalled discomfort, before she smiled mischievously. "But don't let that put you off. Would you like a drop of whiskey in that coffee?"

"Not while I'm on duty, but thank you for offering." He couldn't put his feelings about this nurse who seemed to be both a revolutionary and an Earl's daughter into words, but if he could have, they would have included '_such astonishing boldness_', '_a wild and independent spirit_', and '_a shining beauty like I've never seen in my life_'.

* * *

…

With one of his superior officers out of the way, and the other now deep in discussion with Lady Mary, Lieutenant Gregson swaggered over to the Wren. He'd noticed how she looked at him, of course he did, he was always on the look out for women who might offer some sport to him. In return, he gave them some excitement, and they both gave each other pleasure. And that was all. He wanted to think no more about it, because somehow he had ended up in the Royal Engineers, facing death by being blown up day after day. If he got involved with any one woman, if he allowed himself to have feelings for someone, then his life (or what was left of it) which was presently held up by the flimsiest of supports would come crashing down around his ears. No, it was safest just to eat, drink, and be merry…for tomorrow he really might die.

"Are you stationed here" Michael quickly looked for her stripes and to his surprise found pips instead "er…Captain?"

"No, not here. You?" She had a lovely, sweet voice. He could imagine her saying all sorts of lovely things in that voice.

"We came up from York. But I'm awfully glad we did." He smiled. It wasn't an unattractive smile, Edith thought, although this officer was not exactly putting her at ease with his forwardness.

"I could perhaps show you some of the more interesting bits of York, the bits most visitors don't see, if you were interested, when you're next off duty." He wasn't really smiling any more. His eyes were doing even more talking than his rather kissable lips. Edith didn't know what had got into her.

"I don't know…"

"Oh, but do say 'yes'. I'd love to."

He leant forward, just a little more.

Edith was leaning backwards, feeling rather too warm and not entirely enjoying it, but before she could answer him, she heard a commanding voice from the doorway.

* * *

…

Anthony lowered himself carefully into the crater, not that he really needed a closer look to confirm his worst fears. It was obvious from the size what this bomb was, and it was not going to be an easy one to deal with. He listened with his ear to the casing, relieved that he didn't hear anything like a timing mechanism.

He took a moment though, to think about what had happened in the drawing room a moment ago. He had seen a woman (merely looked at her!), and yet she had had the sort of effect on him that you read about in books. He didn't think that sort of thing actually happened in real life. But as he thought of her dark eyes, and neat, silky hair, and the shy but determined character written on her face, he felt his pulse race and his stomach somersault again.

As he walked back to the drawing room and his men, he wanted to believe that this might be the moment he'd waited for all his life. He had even begun to think what his first words to her could be, something romantic but unassuming, perhaps something that could be taken in two ways…one of them bearing more meaning that the other.

Then he stopped in the open doorway to the drawing room, and watched all his new-born hopes crushed under the gaze that Gregson and the beautiful Wren were sharing. Even as he felt his heart crack, he looked from one to the other and thought how much more suited they were to each other, much of an age, with their lives ahead of them. He just hoped that, this time, Michael would realise what a gem, what an angelic prize he had in his hands, and treat her kindly and faithfully.

He looked round and saw similar gazes being shared by his Captain and Lady Mary, and the Sergeant and Lady Sybil. He felt very old, irrelevant…and disposable. He made a decision, and raised his voice.

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid it's bad news. What we have in Lord Grantham's lawn is a Fritz" Anthony said, his voice clear, but not hiding the gravity of the situation.

"What does that mean, Major?" asked Sybil.

"We give the bombs nicknames, a short-hand to describe them, my lady. This is a 3,200lb bomb – and they are blighters to disarm. They have two fuses which have to be neutralised in the correct order. The problem is that the Germans keep us on our toes by fixing half of them one way, and the other half the other way. I have a 50% chance of getting it right."

"No, sir, with respect, I don't think you should do this one on your own" Tom took a step towards his CO to emphasise his point. "You've done the last three Fritzs; let one of us do this one."

"Thank you, Sergeant, but you three have dealt with the lion's share of the ordnance from the last two nights. It's only fair that I take this one. Lady Grantham, if I'm unlucky and it goes up, a bomb that size will blow in all the windows facing it on that side of the house. I strongly recommend that any valuables are removed from those rooms, and all personnel kept to the other side of the building."

Cora paled but rose to the occasion with typical American strength. She began to agree a plan with Mrs Hughes and Carson. Meanwhile, Anthony turned to Matthew.

"Captain, would you and the lads shore up the sides of the crater for me?"

"Of course, sir. Is the bomb in an amenable position, or does it need to be moved?" Matthew was efficient, but obviously agreed with Tom that Anthony should not be tackling this beast by himself.

"I think it should be fine as it is. Just don't jog it! You all know that anyway, but it bears repeating."

There were smart salutes from Matthew and Tom, and a rather more casual one from Michael, before the squad moved off to clear Anthony's workspace for him, and put props in place around the crater to ensure the sides didn't cave in. Robert and Cora accompanied Carson and Mrs Hughes to sort out the evacuation of the house nearest the bomb, Sybil and Mary following behind. Edith and Anthony were left alone.

"How do you do it, Major?" she asked, trying to fill the awkward gap in conversation with something appropriate.

"Do what, Lady Edith?" he answered, all his prepared _bons mots_ ignored, along with all his burgeoning hopes.

"Face death every day, yet remain calm and courteous, even to someone as infuriating as my father?"

Anthony smiled understandingly. "Your father is just not used to serious situations where he is not in control."

"That's very forgiving of you. But it doesn't explain your bravery, how you face those diabolical things over and over again with equanimity." She turned her chocolate brown eyes up to him, and his control faltered.

"There are things requiring more bravery than making a bomb safe, my lady" he murmured in his rich baritone voice. His glittering blue eyes were full of sadness, and she felt herself being drawn to him, not _pulled_ as she just had with Michael. What gripped her now was a far quieter, far stronger emotion than mere lust.

"I can't imagine what they would be" she said quietly.

"Talking to a lovely and intelligent woman without making an ass of myself would be top of my list." They giggled at his words. "Not that it matters any more. I'm way too old for such pleasures." He looked down, the previous sadness returning to his handsome features.

Edith studied him for a moment. He was, perhaps, in his late forties; not so very old. His fair hair was awry and boyish underneath his officer's cap. He had a few laughter lines at his eyes, and he had a gentle, open smile. But there was something about him now she was with him alone, something almost _wounded_, yet bravely borne. There were depths to Major Sir Anthony Strallan that made other men appear very shallow.

"Love's not Time's fool" she quoted, making Anthony visibly start. "Nothing should obstruct love, not class, not age, nothing. After all, true love is rare enough as it is."

It was Anthony's turn to be silenced by this remarkable woman, who seemed to know the words written on his heart and soul.

"I overheard that you aren't stationed here. Are you by any chance connected with Forest Moor?" he asked.

"However did you guess that?" she exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

"Process of elimination really. You couldn't come back home here very often if you were stationed very far away. Of all the navy bases in North Yorkshire, there are only one or two that allow Wrens, and you are too clever to settle for pushing bits of paper around. And" he added confidingly, "I served in the Intelligence Corps in the last War. It takes an Intelligence Officer to recognise another!"

Edith looked up at him, eyes blazing. Finally, she had found someone other than her chums at Forest Moor to whom she could talk shop. They chatted contentedly, she asking questions and advice on the methods used in 1917-18, and he asking about the modern technology and how it helped. Without either of them realising it, within the hour they had fallen inexorably in love.

…


End file.
